


In Potentia

by Harukami



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: Waver Velvet has tried to remake himself over the years. The people around him can see the future he's aiming for more clearly than he himself can.





	In Potentia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Megkips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megkips/gifts).



Lord El Melloi II—or rather, Waver Velvet, who he has never stopped being despite his best efforts, even though he's wrapped himself in red coats and cigar smoke, even though he's gained the respect of people who would never have acknowledged him as a peer before, even though he's grown thirty centimeters—freezes in the doorway.

It shouldn't surprise him to see another servant in Chaldea's cafeteria, even if it's pretty damn early for dinner. They like food as much as the next man; some of them even work in the kitchen for their own pleasure. And there's certainly enough of them around lately that you can find at least one other in any public area at any time.

But somehow, he doesn't expect to see Alexander there, reading with a smile on his face and a glass of wine in his hand, swirling it as he goes over the Iliad for what must be the thousandth time, if not more.

He's not facing Waver directly, three-quarters away, but despite that, Waver can see the smile on Alexander's face, still unexpectedly soft and round. He wonders, briefly, what part Alexander is at. The smile means it must be one of Achilles' scenes, and probably not later on, where Achilles' grief will remind Alexander of his own eventual losses.

It must be strange, to be a servant like Alexander, summoned this time at the beginning of his foray into military affairs and representing potential, but still remembering the totality of his own mythos. Waver's not sure it's something he can ever fully understand. Even if he _is_ a Pseudo-Servant, Zhuge Liang leaves him largely to manage his own affairs, a quiet but weighty presence in the back of his mind—

Waver jumps as someone clears their throat behind him. He's blocking the cafeteria doorway, standing there like a dolt with no common sense. "Tch—" He steps inside, turning to face the new arrival. "What."

Da Vinci smirks at him knowingly, the middle three fingers of her right hand just barely covering her mouth. "Oho," she says. "Lost in admiration, Lord El Melloi?'

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says sourly, then adds, "the second."

He should know better than to engage at all. Da Vinci's eyes sparkle with delight as she looks back and forth between them. "Oh yes," she says. "Your liege lord. Your future king. A strong heart, an unbending will, nice thighs…"

Alexander has his feet up on the cafeteria table, something EMIYA will definitely come out and yell at him about if he sees it from the kitchen. Waver, who is not looking at Alexander's thighs, frowns at da Vinci.

"You disagree?" she asks innocently.

"I didn't ask your opinion," he snaps. He storms over to Alexander, making enough noise that he's sure he's advertising his approach clearly. "Alexander!"

Alexander's head lifts at once like a startled deer, though Waver's the last person who would mistake him for any sort of prey. "Good evening, Professor!"

"Feet off the table," Waver says firmly, and turns on his heel, heading into the cafeteria line to try to get his composure back.

He doesn't watch to see if Alexander obeys, partly because he suspects Alexander _will_. It's still strange to him, but it's part of, he thinks, who Alexander is now versus who he becomes. It's not that he's submissive or passive—Waver snorts at the thought. Both Alexander and the version he knows better as Iskandar are unstoppable forces, bound only by their own will. And Alexander's will now is to listen, observe, learn. He is the pure potential of who he will become; who, Waver knows better than anyone, he became thousands of years ago. 

Back when they met again, Alexander decided, mostly on his own, that Waver was to be his professor now. As if he could ever be compared to the likes of Aristotle! But Alexander's decision, as always, stands, and all Waver can do is try to fill those shoes.

Or sandals, he supposes.

Da Vinci has followed him into the cafeteria line, and waits until they've both received their plates from EMIYA before engaging him again. "My opinion," she says cheerily, "is that, as his professor, you might as well call him Alcibiades as Alexander."

It takes him a few moments to place the reference. He thinks instead to the Athenian statesman, and it takes him recalling who da Vinci is, and what crass joke she's following up on after the comment about Alexander's thighs, to realize she's referencing the satirical Florentine treatise on the joys of sodomy. It was written a little after her time, but he supposes that doesn't matter much to a Heroic Spirit.

Waver opens his mouth to be particularly scathing, then swallows it. He doubts she familiarized herself with it after her death just for the scandal of it; she had lived through the worst of the Renaissance's condemnations, and had been arrested for sodomy herself when she was 24. If the charges had stuck, it could have meant the death penalty. Many authors have commented at length about Leonardo da Vinci's apparent lifetime of chastity after that.

Satire is, he knows, a form of resistance to oppression. Even obscene satire.  

Perhaps her flirting is even a type of triumph. Now, at least, she has been allowed to reach her full potential: having everything she had wanted to have, and being everything she had wanted to be. Her own era didn't end her. She's here, as brilliant and vivacious as ever. He knows, as she's said it many times, that she sees herself as perfect.

"Don't be crude," he says, instead of anything harsher.

She seems surprised by his display of restraint, and laughs, bumping her shoulder against his in an overly-affectionate way. "But it's so easy! No, that's true, I know. Your feelings for him go far beyond the base, do they not? A tactician before his general, a servant before his king, a worshipper before his god."

Waver stops walking, turning toward her as if the conversation is engaging him—though it's more that if he gets any closer, Alexander will hear them. He can't admit to what she's saying, but would rather die than deny it. "What's your point?" he asks instead.

"You're interesting to me," she says.

He wishes he had his cigar, but the cafeteria is a no smoking area. "I'm not interested."

"I meant, in an academic way," da Vinci says, laughing. "As a Pseudo-Servant."

That makes more sense. He sighs. "I know I'm a unique case among them. But it's a simple matter. Because of the differences in the compatibility of Chinese and European philosophies, Lord Zhuge Liang Kongming decided to share with me all of his thoughts and opinions, but, as someone familiar with the modern era, felt it would be best if I controlled our joint consciousness."

"I know how it works," da Vinci says, only her smile keeping the words from being overtly scolding. "And certainly, of all the spirits to be summoned as a Pseudo-Servant, one can understand how Zhuge Liang would make his approach all about the strategy of it. But, Professor the Second—"

" _Lord El Melloi_ the Second," he corrects crankily.

She doesn't let his interruption trip her up. "—I think perhaps another element might be involved. What is your goal?"

Waver knows he's frowning at her now. "The protection of humanity."

"No, _your_ goal."

He doesn't let himself answer. The risk is too high that she'll tell him it's impossible, and he doesn't think he could stand hearing it, however many times he's thought it. But despite himself, his gaze wanders back to Alexander—back in his book, bottle of wine at his elbow, feet no longer on the table.

"Just so," she says, following his gaze. "The Throne of Heroes is outside of time. You can't know whether or not you'll succeed. Perhaps even Zhuge Liang doesn't know. But, with the respect of one strategist to another, perhaps he wants to leave you the opportunity to carry the responsibility for your own deeds into history."

Waver hates that he thinks he's blushing, but there's a swelling warmth in his chest that doesn't let him stay angry about it. "Hmph," he says, regardless.

"And that would be such an interesting, unique case," da Vinci says. "You should come by my workshop sometime. We can talk more about why you're allowed to be you; I can run experiments on both your soul and your body!"

"Leave my body and my soul out of it," he says, then inclines his head to her. "But we can talk again."

"Good, good," she says, and bumps shoulders again. "Have a good dinner, Professor Velvet the First. I'll see you around."

She heads off to join Mash and Fou at their table, and Waver huffs after her, a quiet protest against all the feelings she riled up and left rampaging through him.

And then he shakes himself out of his stasis, stalking over to Alexander and sliding in across from him. "I'll eat with you," he mutters.

"Oh, great!" Alexander says. He folds his book and lets it vanish into golden dust, grinning across the table with that bright, relentless grin of his, full of his dreams of the future. "A feast shared with a friend is better by far than a meal alone."

"I might not be as good an old friend as that book," Waver says gruffly. "And as good as EMIYA's cooking is, I'm not sure I'd call it a feast. But I'd rather eat with you than alone, too."

Alexander sighs. "Professor, sometimes you say things," he says.

"Everyone says things."

"But you _say_ things," Alexander says, rolling his eyes. He produces a second wineglass from who knows where. "You'll drink with me as well!"

"Of course," Waver says, as if it had been a question, rather than the command of a king to his companion. "Meals are better that way too, aren't they?"

Alexander laughs and pours, and Waver Velvet—because, no matter who calls him Professor or Lord, whoever uses or misuses his titles, whoever mangles his name in any way, he will always be himself—tries, unsuccessfully, to hide his smile behind his wine glass.


End file.
